


what you have

by SydneyHorses



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Subdrop, very light degradation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/pseuds/SydneyHorses
Summary: Sylvain has trouble asking for what he wants. When he gets overwhelmed during sex with Felix though, it forces him to reconsider and be open about what he actually wants out of their hook-ups.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 182





	what you have

**Author's Note:**

> okay i THINK this is the last part of this!!!! a horny trucker au is something that can actually be so personal

“Are you going to be good, or what?” Felix sounds delightfully bored behind him, and Sylvain lets out an inelegant whine at his tone of voice.

Sylvain is having a good time thinking straight, let alone speaking. He whines into the pillow his face is pressed into, canting his hips forward with a pitiful little cry. “Felix.”

Felix sighs. It’s laced with disappointment, and Sylvain stills immediately. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, lifting his face up off of the pillow.

“I told you not to move,” Felix says slowly. “Or speak. Didn’t I?”

Sylvain doesn’t know what to do, and so he doesn’t do either of those things. Instead, he waits, something like apprehension coiling inside of him. He dosn’t know what to do.

Whatever Felix says next, Sylvain doesn’t hear it. He’s lost to the haze inside of his mind, an overwhelming fog drowning everything else out. Felix touches the small of Sylvain’s back and he jerks away from the touch, trying to process whatever is happening.

“Sylvain?” Felix’s voice is sharp, cutting through the cloud of Sylvain’s mind as elegantly as he does everything else. “What’s wrong?”

Sylvain isn’t supposed to speak, so he doesn’t. Instead, he stays completely still, willing himself not to mess up again. Above him, Felix goes quiet, and Sylvain can’t help the full body shudder that goes through him. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“I’m not,” Felix pauses, “mad at you. You’re not in trouble?” He seems unsure if that’s what Sylvain was waiting for, but some of the tension leaves his body, and Sylvain turns his head to the side, readjusting so that he’s more comfortable.

He still shouldn’t talk though. Felix told him not to.

Felix slides off of his back, landing on the bed next to him with a soft thump. “Sylvain?” He sounds almost frightened - Sylvain has ruined everything even more. Even when he’s not speaking, he’s still stressing Felix out. “Sylvain. Talk to me.”

Sylvain swallows. “You told me not to talk.”

“Is that what this is about?” Felix looks mad. Sylvain doesn’t want him to be mad.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain says again. It’s the only thing he knows how to say. “I’m sorry.” He feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m not mad,” Felix snaps, his brow furrowing. Sylvain flinches again, moving away from the harsh tone of his voice instinctively. “Stop,” Felix says, even harsher this time.

Sylvain freezes, his blood roaring in his ears. “I’m sorry.”

Felix sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m not. Mad at you. Are you okay?”

Sylvain swallows. “I’m fine. Where were we?”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Felix says harshly.

Sylvain sits up, his face flushed. He’s shaking - he can feel the tremors in his hands, even though he can’t do anything to stop them. “Felix.”

Felix’s hands twitch, and Sylvain looks up to meet his gaze. The annoyance that had been there moments ago is gone, replaced instead by a piercing worry that Sylvain doesn’t know how to carry with him. “Can I hold you?” Felix asks.

Sylvain hesitates, then nods, rolling closer to Felix. They’re not officially dating, but Sylvain certainly hasn’t been sleeping with anyone else. He doubts that Felix has either. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about what’s slowly developing between them, he has no desire to ever see Felix with someone else.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sylvain says, suddenly petulant.

Felix sighs. “I don’t want to sleep with you if you get all twitchy like that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s a surprisingly honest confession, and one that Sylvain doesn’t know what to do with. It seems almost counterintuitive, that this guy he’s slept with a handful of times and is slowly starting to get to know would be able to tell him just what he needs to hear, but it’s the truth. 

“It’s… I don’t know how to explain it.” Where the fuck does he even start? Everything about Sylvain’s mind is such a tangled mess. There’s a reason all he does is drive a truck - trying to be the golden boy had ruined his life in college. It’s easier to stick to that which keeps him calm.

Felix gestures for him to continue. The line of his back is tight and tense, and Sylvain hates it. It’s his fault that Felix is all coiled up like this. If he’d just listened better.

“So.” Sylvain wants to get out of here and drive until he forgets about Felix. He has a rare week off, and while it had seemed such a luxury, now he’s wishing that he had a job he had to leave for in the morning. Men are stupid. All he needs is his truck.

“So,” Felix says.

Talking about it. They’re talking about it.

Sylvain curls one of his hands into a fist, his nails digging into his palm sharply. “Well. What if I promise not to freak out again?”

Felix sighs. “I think there’s an unspoken promise not to freak out during sex.”

They’re totally gonna have to talk about it, aren’t they? Fuck. “Okay. Okay. Fine.”

Where to begin?

“Sometimes, I… zone out a little during sex. During anything, really.” Sylvain grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. He really should have gotten dressed before starting this conversation. Now, he’s forced to be naked both physically and emotionally. It doesn’t seem quite right. “Sometimes it’s bad, I know. Dissociation and all that. But sometimes it’s good!” Felix arches an eyebrow. “It’s good when you dissociate?”

“No!” Sylvain yelps, holding his hands up. “No, of course not. But it’s like dissociation. But it’s not. Does that make sense?”

Felix fixes him with a flat look. “No.”

Sylvain makes a frustrated sound, trying desperately to figure out the words to explain what he’s feeling. “Okay,” he pauses. “Okay, so, you know how when you tell me what to do in bed, and it’s hot?”

Felix nods. There’s a faint blush on Felix’s cheeks, but Sylvain doesn’t care anymore. He’s going to get these words out if it kills him. “Yes,” Felix says, strangled.

“I like it,” Sylvain says. “I like it a lot. It makes me feel good to have a goal.”

Felix tightens his arms around Sylvain. “Okay.”

“But sometimes, I get… worried.” Sylvain grimaces, trying to think of the right words. “Like, I get really caught up in not wanting to do anything wrong.”

Felix’s mouth twitches. “What, you think I’ll get mad at you?”

Sylvain nods slowly. “Yeah. I don’t want to let you down.” His voice cracks, just a bit, and he hates himself for it. “I want to be good.”

Felix jerks, a sort of full body thing that sends a wave of anxiety through Sylvain. “Listen,” he snaps. “I am never going to get mad at you during sex. I don’t know what the fuck you think of me, but I’m not that callous.”

Sylvain tenses, then Felix’s words start to sink in and he relaxes slightly. “You could phrase it nicer,” he complains, burrowing his head into Felix’s shoulder.

Even though he can’t see his face, Sylvain can imagine the look on it. Disdain mixed with concern mixed with something more intimate, something that they’re both refusing to talk about. “I’m not mad at you for telling me what you need.”

Sylvain exhales, his breath rushing out of him. “Okay. Yeah.” He gnaws on his bottom lip, contemplating. “Not now, obviously, but can we talk about what we want? Out of the sex, I mean.”

Felix’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

Sylvain’s mouth twists. “I mean, I want you to… I don’t know, punish me? Put me in my place?”

“You want me to… punish you?” Felix’s eyebrows shoot up.

Sylvain swallows. This was stupid. He shouldn’t have done this. What the fuck was he thinking? “I mean, there’s more to it than that. It’s not just about the sex.”

“Fine then.” Felix crosses his arms. “What’s it about?”

He should have known this conversation would go this way. “It’s about,” he pauses, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, “it’s about not having to think. It’s about having a goal, and wanting to accomplish it.”

Felix narrows his eyes. “So you want me to give you a goal. And if you mess it up, then I get to punish you?”

A small thrill of apprehension goes through him. “Yeah,” he croaks. “But you have to be clear. Not like earlier.”

Felix scowls. “Oh, so it’s my fault you freaked out?”

Sylvain doesn’t mean to let his face drop the way that he knows it does, but it happens nonetheless. 

Felix’s mouth twitches. “I won’t tease you about that again.”

Sylvain lets out a soft, relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Felix soothes a hand through his curls, a small smile on his face. “I’m not gonna fuck you today,” he says. “I need… a minute, I think.” Sylvain can’t say he’s surprised. He starts to sit up, ready to crawl out of Felix’s bed and slink back home. Instead, Felix’s arms tighten around him. “You don’t have to go. We can, I don’t know, watch a movie or something.”

They’ll have to talk about it more later, but for now, Sylvain bites back a smile. “Or something.”

-

“Okay,” Felix says softly. “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much?”

Sylvain nods. “I promise.” He bites back the annoyance rising in his chest, instead smiling in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. 

It’s been six days since the last, disastrous time they tried to have sex, and now, armed with a lot of googling and a knowledge of what exactly he wants Felix to do to him tonight, Sylvain is excited. Felix certainly hadn’t seemed opposed to bossing him around, and talking it over had helped. Even if he does make a mistake, he knows what will happen if he lets Felix down. It’s reassuring, to know the consequences for one’s actions even before they happen. 

“Right.” Felix strokes a hand through Sylvain’s hair. Sylvain is kneeling before him, a pillow thoughtfully placed under his knees while Felix perches above him on the edge of the bed. It’s a good angle; Felix is backlit, the light outlining his sharp features and distracting Sylvain even further. “And you remember what to say?”

It’s kind of cute. He hadn’t expected Felix to be so worried about him. After all, it’s not like they really talk except to fuck. Although, they’ve certainly been texting more ever since last time. “Yes,” Sylvain says, trying desperately not to sound bored. “Green if I’m fine, yellow if I need you to slow down, red if I want you to stop.”

“And if you can’t talk?” A faint cord of anxiety makes its way into Felix’s voice.

It’s a fair concern, of course. Sylvain gets quiet when he really relaxes, and he thinks if Felix does a really good job, he might forget how to speak entirely. “I tap you twice if I’m fine, three times if I need you to stop.”

A small, barely there smile crosses Felix’s face. It’s so slight that Sylvain wouldn’t be surprised if the other man didn’t even see it, but it’s there nonetheless. “Good boy,” Felix whispers softly. He leans forward and kisses Sylvain, so gently and carefully that it threatens to crack Sylvain’s heart clean in two.

Sylvain sighs and lets himself be swept up into it, relaxing into Felix’s touch and leaning close. He loves the way Felix kisses; always firm, directed, as though Felix knows just what he wants and exactly how to get it. Right now, Sylvain certainly hopes he does.

“Okay,” Felix says. “Shirt off.” 

There isn’t any room for discussion in his words, and Sylvain pulls his t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, letting it fall to the ground after. Felix reaches a hand down to cup his jaw, and Sylvain wants nothing more than to turn and kiss it. Felix put him down here for a reason though, and so Sylvain doesn’t move. Instead, he lets his eyes drift closed as Felix presses two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them obediently.

It should be embarrassing, the way that he takes what he’s given so readily. It should feel degrading, how desperate he is to curl his tongue around Felix’s fingers and lap eagerly at his digits. But instead, all it fills him with is a burgeoning sense of pride and the warmth of a job well done. There’s a lot he’s good at, but there aren’t many things anymore that don’t stress him out while he’s doing them.

All that he has is driving, looking out at the vast, open road ahead of him, and this: Felix’s hands in his hair, in his mouth, claiming complete ownership of him and driving away every other thought. There’s a kind of peace to be found at Felix’s feet, and he wouldn’t move for anything.

When Felix finally pulls his fingers out of Sylvain’s mouth, his brain is hazy and calm, and he lets out a soft whimper at the loss of touch.

“Shhh,” Felix hushes him softly, his hand in his hair holding him tight, keeping his thoughts with Felix. “You’ll let me use your mouth, won’t you?”

Sylvain nods, his eyes still shut as a belt jingles above him. He hears the soft sound of fabric rustling, and then Felix’s fingers in his hair tighten. With a rush, Sylvain realizes that Felix’s hand had never left his hair - he’d removed his trousers with only one hand, just so that he wouldn’t have to stop touching Sylvain.

Felix drags him forward roughly, and Sylvain’s mouth falls open before he processes what’s happening. Above him, Felix lets out a soft chuckle. “Eager, huh?”

When Sylvain doesn’t respond, Felix tugs roughly at his hair. “I asked you a question. Two, in fact. It’s considered polite to answer.”

He sounds completely unaffected, and Sylvain squirms at his tone of voice. “Yeah,” he croaks out. Already, his voice is rough, as if he’s forgotten how to speak. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Felix’s fingers tighten minutely - a reward. “Good boy,” he says softly, dragging Sylvain’s head forward so that he’s nosing at his length. Two rewards, then. The praise floods through Sylvain’s body, and he laps at the head of Felix’s cock, opening his eyes so that he can find his prize.

Felix’s hips shift minutely forward, and Sylvain takes that as all the further encouragement he needs. He takes Felix into his mouth in one swift motion, letting the weight of him rest heavy on his tongue. His gaze flicks up to meet Felix’s, his eyes wide and straining.

A hand comes down to rest on his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone. It’s gentle, or would be if not for the way that Felix forces his head down with his other hand, not stopping until Sylvain’s mouth is stuffed full. The only thing he can think about is Felix’s cock and he hums around the length in his mouth. Above him, Felix’s face is flushed red, his eyes falling half-lidded.

Felix’s hand roughly pulls his head back, and Sylvain goes, a squelching sound coming from his mouth as Felix starts to move his head up and down his shaft, pulling Sylvain around as if he’s some sort of toy.

Sylvain’s mind goes quiet sometime after that, his eyes slipping closed as he lets himself be used. His jaw starts to ache after not too long, but Felix’s grunts of pleasure and the bruising grip he has on his hair is enough to keep Sylvain content. He’d stay down here for hours, if Felix wanted.

Finally, his head is pulled off of Felix’s cock and kept like that, Felix holding him a few inches away. Sylvain whines, aware that he’s drooling for it, desperately stupid and drunk off of Felix’s approval.

Felix laughs. It slides like ice down his spine, and Sylvain looks up at him. “You’re a mess,” Felix says, almost fondly. “We’ve barely even started and look at you. Such a little cockslut.”

Sylvain finds his voice, just barely there. “Please,” he says. It’s the only thing he thinks he could say.

“Hm,” Felix tilts Sylvain’s head back, standing up and looking down at him imperiously. “I don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

Sylvain doesn’t know. He has no idea what he does or doesn’t deserve. He just wants to make Felix happy. “Felix,” he whines.

Felix arches an eyebrow. It’s almost funny; he’s completely naked, and yet he has all the power in the room. As far as Sylvain is concerned, there may as well be nothing but Felix here. It all seems beyond insignificant in the face of the man above him. “You can’t even be happy with what you’ve been given, can you? I give you my cock and you want more. You probably want me to fuck you, don’t you? Bend you over and reduce you to a drooling mess for me?”

Sylvain wants that very badly. Already, he can feel himself slipping away to that space beyond words, his mind going fuzzy and quiet. He’s comfortable, the ache in his jaw dissipating the longer he drifts in expectation.

“I don’t know if you deserve that,” Felix says. “You haven’t earned it.”

The words sharpen to a point inside of Sylvain, and he jerks his head up to fix his gaze on Felix. He doesn’t know what he needs to do, but he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

Felix hums, considering. “I could bend you over my knee. Spank you until you’re sobbing for my cock.” Sylvain twitches at that, but he doesn’t speak. “Maybe I’ll tie you up and just leave you here. I could go make myself tea, catch up on some tv. Come back by the time you’re screaming for it.” Sylvain frowns at that. He needs, he wants - he doesn’t know what to say. The words catch in his throat. Felix must catch the look on his face, for he lets go of Sylvain’s hair and cups his cheek instead. “Sylvain?” Felix is checking in. There are words for that. Sylvain knows them. It takes him a minute to speak, and his voice sounds almost nothing like himself, scraped raw and ragged. “Yellow.”

This was a good idea. Felix nods slowly, leaning down to press a soft, tender kiss to Sylvain’s forehead. “Good boy. Thank you for telling me.”

Sylvain whines, rubbing his thighs together in search of any fiction at all. He’s wearing an old, worn pair of jeans, and the pressure of them feels far too constricting.

“It’s the leaving you, right?” Felix’s doesn’t sound gentle, exactly, but he’s concerned, and that’s almost the same thing.

Sylvain nods.

Felix brushes his bangs out of his face and smiles benevolently down at him. “You’re such a good boy, Sylvain. You’re being so good for me. So responsive. So obedient.”

It’s the kind of praise that Sylvain had told Felix he wanted, but that he hadn’t really expected to hear. Earlier, when they’d had a slightly stilted conversation over what they could both get out of this, Felix had admitted that he’d moved to Fhirdiad to get away from an overbearing, ununderstanding father. He’d told Sylvain that his life was spiraling out of his control, and that it would be nice to have one thing that he was fully in charge of.

Maybe that’s why Sylvain gathers what remains of his ability to speak and looks up at Felix from under his eyelashes. “Whatever you want. I want you to feel good.”

Felix’s mouth twitches, and he grabs Sylvain’s chin in his hand, tilting his face upwards. “You want me to feel good, hm?” The grip on Sylvain’s chin is bruising, his whole world narrowed down to harsh fingers on his jaw and a sharp smile above him. “I could ride you. If you’re good and don’t come, then I’ll fuck you. Maybe.”

Sylvain couldn’t move his head even if he wanted to, and Felix tilts his head back further, almost painfully so. It’s just on the edge of uncomfortable, but Sylvain relaxes into the position after moments, his shoulders loose and relaxed. “I’ll tie you up after,” Felix says determinedly. “That’s nice of me, isn’t it? I’ll give you two rewards if you’re good.” He trails his free hand down the line of Sylvain’s throat, feather light and barely there. Sylvain swallows, and Felix presses two fingers against his pulse point. “You want that, don’t you? I can feel how fast your heart is beating.”

Felix’s eyes dart down to meet his, and Sylvain blinks, a tear spilling out of the corner of his eye and down his cheek. Felix’s hand leaves the column of his throat immediately, wiping it off with a gentle thumb. “Color, Sylvain.”

Color. Words. Sylvain’s tongue is a dead thing in his mouth. His head feels blessedly empty, everything but a single minded desire to do whatever it is Felix wants gone. He reaches up with a hand and rests it on Felix’s thigh, tapping two fingers twice there.

For just a moment, there’s an expression on Felix’s face that Sylvain has no idea how to interpret. It’s fond, and there’s a naked desire in his face that threatens to drown Sylvain in its wake, caught in it like a riptide. It’s gone after a few heartbeats, but the warm glow it inspired doesn’t leave Sylvain.

“I won’t tie up your hands,” Felix says softly. “Just your legs. That way you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

Sylvain nods, his eyes slipping closed again. Felix runs a hand through his hair, and then tugs on the roots slightly, pulling him up to his feet. There’s a brief, silent pause, and then Felix guides him over to the bed. Sylvain scoots back on it, leaning against the headboard and opening his eyes to look at Felix.

Felix stands, heading over to his closet and reaching up to grab a box from one of the shelves. He pops it open and walks back over to the bed, carrying a length of soft rope, condoms and lube, and a long strip of black fabric.

“We don’t have to,” he says when he sees Sylvain’s expression. “You just keep closing your eyes. I thought you might want it.”

Sylvain eyes the blindfold suspiciously, contemplating if he wants to have his sight truly gone. He’s content to sit here with his eyes closed, and it might be easier not to come once he’s inside Felix if he can’t see him, but he doesn’t want it to be easy. He wants to earn it. He shakes his head.

Felix nods. “Good.”

He’s slowly realizing that Felix likes any feedback at all, and that telling him that he doesn’t want something is just as apt to produce a reward as baring his throat.

“Finish stripping,” Felix says. “Then put a condom on and sit back down against the headboard.”

Almost mechanically, Sylvain stands, unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them and his boxers. He grabs one of the condoms on the bed, sliding it down onto his dick and pressing himself against the headboard.

“If you don’t want the blindfold,” Felix says. “Then you can watch.” He holds up the bottle of lube, then clicks the cap open. “Eyes on me. If I catch you looking away, there’ll be consequences.”

Sylvain nods, clasping his hands in front of him and watching as Felix dribbles lube onto his fingers. His own erection feels almost insignificant, especially while watching Felix bite back moans as he slowly presses first one, then two fingers into himself. “I wish these were yours,” Felix bites out. “Your fingers are - _ah_ \- bigger than mine. Your cocks bigger too. I’m gonna feel you for days after.”

Sylvain’s breath hitches, and his hips cant upwards minutely. Felix stills immediately, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t have to tell you not to touch yourself, do I?” His voice drips with disdain, and Sylvain curls his hand into the sheets in lieu of trying to grasp himself.

Felix chuckles. “Pathetic. You’d do anything for a little attention, wouldn’t you? Whore.”

The whine that forces its way out of Sylvain’s throat is pathetic and desperate. “Please. Felix, I-” His voice cuts off, and he whines again, words once again falling out of his grasp. He’s never felt so perfectly suspended in balance before - conscious and aware of what’s happening, of course, but the words don’t feel shameful anymore. He doesn't think he could be ashamed of anything right now.

“I know,” Felix says. He sounds amused, even a little fond. There’s a loud, wet noise as Felix pulls his fingers out of himself, and then he makes his way over to Sylvain. “You’re not going to touch me,” he says firmly. “If you do that, or if you come, I’m going to punish you. Do you understand?”

Sylvain nods once, jerkily.

“If something’s wrong, of course,” Felix slings a leg over Sylvain’s lap, straddling him and grinding down onto him. “Then you can touch me. That overrides everything else. You should know that.” He sounds conversational, even as Sylvain is gasping down in pleasure at the feeling of Felix’s hole brushing up against his length.

Sylvain reaches out to tap his fingers twice against Felix’s thigh, then puts them down and fists his hands in the sheets. When Felix sinks down onto him, Sylvain’s voice cracks, and he jerks his hips upwards instinctively.

“Be good,” Felix chastises. When Sylvain finally bottoms out, Felix is panting, his eyes half-lidded and his face flushed red. Sylvain wants nothing more than to reach out and touch his cheek, or to grab his hips and drive up into him as mercilessly as he can.

He doesn’t, though, stays still and listens to Felix’s orders, his only motion his heaving chest and the occasional upwards thrust of his hips. He’s trying to keep his movement to a minimum, but it’s hard, when Felix is bouncing on his cock and moaning for him, tossing his head back and whining pitifully. Each cry from his lips is sending more and more desire pooling into Sylvain’s gut, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to last like this.

“Fe,” he whines, tossing his head and clutching tighter at the sheets. He can’t stay like this much longer. His heart is pounding, and another broken moan spills from his lips.

“No,” Felix snaps, suddenly going completely still and fixing him with a vicious, unimpressed glare. “I’m not done.”

Sylvain whimpers, feeling his cock pulse weakly inside of Felix. He wants to come so badly, desire spilling red hot through his veins as he looks at Felix’s flushed red, overwhelmed face.

As if he aims to purposefully draw out his suffering, Felix smirks, clenching down tight around him and tossing his head back. He lets out a moan as he rises up, then slams back down onto Sylvain’s cock. F elix tosses his head back, bringing a head up to tweak a nipple. “ _Sylvain._ ”

There’s no way he’s going to last. He can’t. It’s impossible to keep himself composed when Felix is in front of him like this, and that’s before Felix starts talking.

“You feel so good,” Felix babbles. “I’m gonna be ruined for anyone else’s cock after this, not going to want anyone but you inside of me. You’re so big, so good for me. Aren’t you?”

It’s all Sylvain can do not to spend himself there, and if he’s going to be honest, he’s doing an impressive job keeping himself together. Still, his mouth falls open, and Felix shoves two fingers into him, sticking them deep and pressing down onto his tongue. Sylvain sucks on them obediently, thrusting upwards to meet Felix and moaning around his fingers.

Felix pulls his fingers out with a wet pop, then stills on his cock, looking down at Sylvain archly. “Say it.”

It takes Sylvain’s brain a moment to catch up to what Felix is asking, and he shakes his head minutely, out of reflex more than anything. Felix grabs his chin again, his spit-drenched fingers holding Sylvain in place. “Say it.”

Sylvain’s voice is so far from what he normally recognizes as his own. “I’m good.”

Felix rises up off of him, Sylvain’s cock sliding out of him and bobbing in the open air. Sylvain has no idea how he didn’t come. “Yes,” Felix gives his own cock a leisurely pump, “you are.”

A whine echoes throughout the room, desperate and needy and torn from Sylvain’s lips without a second thought. “I’m gonna take care of you,” Felix says. “Stop worrying.”

Such few words, and yet Sylvain feels himself sink back down into the same hazy space he was in before Felix had set his soul on fire. He relaxes into the headboard, tension easing out of him as Felix grabs the length of rope, a soft hum of consideration spilling from his lips.

“On your back,” Felix says. “I’m going to tie your legs together, and then I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my name.”

What a fool he is. Sylvain already doesn’t know anything else. Instead, he lets out a shaky exhale and slides down the mattress, his back pressed flat against the sheets.

Felix looms above him, brushing an errant curl of hair out of his eyes and then carefully lifting Sylvain’s arms up and putting them above his head. “I want you to keep your arms up here,” he says slowly. “They’re not tied, and you won’t be in trouble if you move them. You can touch me if you need.”

That means that if he needs to stop, he doesn’t have to speak. Good. Sylvain doesn’t know if he remembers how. He arches his back and settles into the stretch, crossing his wrists and curling his fingers into his palms.

Felix pulls out the rope, then carefully picks Sylvain’s legs up, folding them up and holding him like that. He feels embarrassingly on display, and a shudder rolls through him as Felix reaches down a finger around his hole.

His knees are pressed to his chest, so far back that the stretch of it almost burns. His legs are going to be so sore tomorrow, but for tonight, the only thing that matters is Felix’s eyes on him. Felix winds the rope carefully around his ankles, then up his calves, stopping just below his knees. The pressure is slight, not uncomfortable by any means, and the longer he stays like that, the longer Sylvain finds that he likes it.

Felix brushes a hand down the back of his thighs, dipping down to spread his cheeks wide. His thumb dips into Sylvain’s hole - when had Felix put lube on his fingers? Sylvain doesn’t remember anymore - and Sylvain whines, his head falling back as he focuses on keeping his knees pulled up to his chest.

Felix fingers Sylvain open slowly, up to two fingers before hardly any time has passed. It’s agonizingly slow, and Sylvain is on the verge of tears by the time Felix has worked him up to three fingers. His fingers are deep and prodding, driving every other thought out of Sylvain’s mind as Felix massages at his prostate.

“ _Felix,”_ Sylvain moans, arching his back and writhing uselessly.

Felix smirks. “I’ve got you.”

Sylvain shudders around Felix’s fingers, and lets out an overwhelmed whine when Felix pulls them out. Immediately, Felix is shushing him, then grabbing his tied legs and pushing them even further up.

The stretch burns, the back of his thighs aching as Felix shoves them upwards, uncaring. He hesitates for a moment, then traces an almost reverent hand over the ropes on Sylvain’s legs. “Color,” he asks softly.

Sylvain whines. He doesn’t want to move his hands, even though Felix had told him he could. He likes the way they feel right now, pressed above his head with a gentle ache spreading through his bones. He can’t possibly tell Felix a color though, and so instead he brings one of his hands down, grabbing at Felix’s shoulder blindly before tapping it twice.

“Okay,” Felix says softly. He grabs Sylvain’s hand, carefully pulling it off his shoulder, then presses a kiss to his palm. The gesture is so blindly affectionate that Sylvain thinks he could drown in it, and he lets out another whine. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” Felix leans over him, pressing his hand back above his head.

Felix draws back, folding Sylvain nearly in half and then pressing his cock against him. Sylvain wants to spread his legs and hook his ankles around Felix’s back, but his legs are bound tight, and the only thing he can do is arch his back and take it. Felix has a tight grip on the ropes, using the added leverage they give to push Sylvain’s legs further against him, trapping them between Felix’s chest and Sylvain’s body. It hurts, just the edge of pain that starts to trip into a pleasure Sylvain doesn’t think he can get enough of. 

When Felix sinks into him, it feels like some sort of blessing. Sylvain groans, his face beet red. There’s no hiding from Felix while on his back. It feels right; Sylvain should be on display for Felix. He wants to make him happy in every way that he possibly can.

The slow slide of Felix’s cock seems to drag on forever. There’s a blissful moment where Sylvain thinks it’ll never end, and his whole life will consist of nothing more than Felix slowly bottoming out inside of him.

That doesn’t happen, of course, and Felix finally hilts himself inside. His hands on Sylvain’s legs are tight and bruising, and Felix doesn’t pause for an instant. Instead, he starts thrusting straight away, fast and hard. Sylvain writhes underneath him, trying desperately to move. Instead, Felix’s hands push impossibly harder down onto him, and Sylvain lets out a choked cry.

“Please, Felix,” he begs, his voice wrecked. Soft _ahs_ fall rhythmically with each thrust, and Felix only doubles down. In one smooth motion, his hips are lifted almost completely off the mattress. Sylvain’s toes curl as Felix somehow presses even deeper, a particularly well-angled thrust slamming into his prostate.

“You’re such a slut.” Felix’s tone is biting, a dark laugh lurking just beneath his words. “Everyone thinks you’re some big stud, but you’re just begging to be bent over and put in your place.” Felix thrusts again, and Sylvain wails, tossing his head back and letting out a broken moan. It feels like Felix is the only person who’s ever really touched him, and Sylvain’s toes curl as Felix slams back into him.

“Are you going to come?” Felix sounds almost mocking, but he reaches between Sylvain’s unbound thighs, curling a tight fist around his cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Well?

Sylvain isn’t allowed to. He has to wait, doesn’t he? Felix hadn’t said that, of course, but it seems right, to wait until Felix explicitly tells him he can come. He arches his back and whines as Felix keeps jacking him off slowly. He’s a mess, squirming underneath Felix’s touch and crying out nonsensically. Each touch electrifies him further, and he tosses his head back, his mouth falling open in a loud cry.

“You can, you know.” Felix lets go of the ropes, dropping his hand to trace around Sylvain’s hole. He’s stretched around Felix, stuffed impossibly full, and when Felix slips the tip of his finger inside of Sylvain, he lets out a desperate wail, clenching down tight and coming with a cry that feels as though it’s been ripped from the very depth of his soul.

Felix keeps working him through it, even once his pleasure inches into pain. Even so, Felix doesn't let up, not even when Sylvain is crying out and trying to curl away from Felix.

“Do you want me to stop?” Felix freezes, arching an eyebrow and looking down at him.

Sylvain lets out a breathless, slightly pitiful noise and shakes his head. Felix chuckles, then drops his hands to hold Sylvain’s hips, pulling out and sliding back into him in one swift motion. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating; the overstimulation slowly tearing Sylvain apart at the seams.

He loses track of time after that, crying out and whining in the back of his throat as Felix pounds into him over and over, relentlessly chasing after his own pleasure. It’s not until Sylvain feels a tear roll down his cheek that he realizes he’s crying, and his breath hitches when Felix finally lets out a shuddering grunt and comes inside of him.

Felix pulls out slowly and Sylvain clenches around nothing, shuddering around the sudden, overwhelming emptiness. He’s going to be alone forever. He’s never going to be close to anyone again, is he? Now that Felix has seen him when he’s broken, he’ll never want him again.

“Sylvain.” Felix sets a hand on his cheek, his thumb stroking over Sylvain’s cheekbone. “You with me?”

Sylvain nods. He feels glassy and overwhelmed still, his mind still a haze of emotion.

“Good,” Felix says. There’s an undercurrent of affection permeating through all of his actions, from the soft swipe of his thumb to remove his tears or the gentle hand running through his hair. “Will you bring your hands down for me?”

Sylvain obliges, removing his hands from above his head and resting them on Felix’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what else to do, especially not when Felix smiles at him. It’s a fleeting thing, but it’s there nonetheless. “Good boy,” he whispers softly. “You’re very good for me.”

Sylvain’s eyes fall closed. He feels more relaxed than he has in ages, all tightness gone from his shoulders and replaced by a bone deep weariness.

Felix cards another hand through his hair. “I’m going to untie you, okay?”

Sylvain taps two fingers against Felix’s shoulders to show that he understands. Felix makes a small, pleased noise at the confirmation that he’s still with him, then sets to work.

If Felix had been gentle tying it up, then it’s nothing compared to the tenderness with which he removes the ropes around Sylvain’s legs. He unwinds them, then sets them off to the side, moving off of Sylvain to rub the circulation back into his legs. “There we go,” Felix whispers, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

Sylvain lets out a shaky breath. He still doesn’t feel entirely up to talking, but he reaches up to brush his fingers through Felix’s sweaty bangs. Above him, Felix’s cheeks turn a soft pink, and he leans down to kiss Sylvain. There’s none of their earlier passion; instead, the kiss is languid and comforting, the kind of kiss that one would receive at the end of a long day’s work.

Sylvain can’t remember the last time someone kissed him with such tenderness. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it; but then again, Felix had said that he’d been good. Maybe he’d meant it.

When Felix pulls back, Sylvain smiles up at him, his eyelids suddenly heavy.

“I’m going to go get a washcloth and clean us both us,” Felix says. “Can you stay here for me and wait?”

He doesn’t want to, but Felix had asked so sweetly. His eyelids flutter closed, and he nods.

“Thank you,” Felix says softly. 

The bed dips as Felix leaves, and Sylvain closes his eyes and drifts, half-conscious and half-aware. When Felix comes back, he smooths Sylvain’s bangs off of his face and wipes the sweat and tears off of his face, pulling the condom off of him and disposing of it. Finally, Felix is truly back, and he climbs into the bed to slide under the covers.

“C’mere,” he mutters.

Sylvain goes, rolling under the covers and tucking himself against Felix’s side. Felix wraps an arm around Sylvain’s shoulders, and Sylvain noses into Felix’s embrace. He feels safe and warm, any uncomfortable anxieties gone in the wake of Felix’s strong arms around him.

“Felix?” Sylvain’s voice is soft as he comes back to himself fully, and he wraps himself a little closer around Felix.

Felix grunts, but doesn’t say anything, just strokes a hand through his curls.

“I think I like you,” Sylvain says. It feels odd to say the words out loud, but his chest feels lighter after they’re spoken.

Felix’s hand in his hair stills. “Do you now?”

Sylvain’s lips quirk. He presses his face into Felix’s neck and kisses the soft skin there. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Felix’s hand starts moving once more, and Sylvain lets out a soft, delicate sigh. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Sylvain bites his lip to try to hide his smile. “Go out with me? A real date, not just sex.”

Felix hums, as though he’s considering. “Yeah. Why not, right?”

Sylvain lifts his head and smiles. “Why not?” He stretches upwards to meet Felix halfway for a kiss, and drops his head back down to Felix’s chest with a heavy, contented sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @edelgardlesbian


End file.
